


Cro's Lost Days

by thescyfychannel



Series: Better Natures [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Consensual Possession, Multi, aspect swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: Cro's got a great fuckin' idea to go along with the several other great ideas he's had over the course of his (your) lifetime—if Eridan's got such a hard time being real, why not let his brother take over their timeshare-style body a little more often?Eridan, meanwhile, hasseveralreservations about the idea, but Cro isn't going to listen to a single one of them.What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Daybreak: Awaken

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to cover the period of time that Cronus "lost" when Eridan took more of an active role. The missing time is first mentioned in the latter half of Chapter 8, "if you could say", and the implication is that Cro was willing and supportive—the fact that it was his idea is hinted at, but never explicitly stated.

You've made an art of hanging out in someone's head.

It's hardly strange, in your opinion—after all, this has been your life for years and years, it's only recently that Cro's even been able to catch a glimmer of your voice, and even more new than _that_  is the experience of your brother actually, well, _seeing_  you, when you're there. New for you, but new for him too, and you won't say it didn't fucking burn to be the ghost in the back of his head for years, but...

You've had years to get used to it, whereas Cro's been caught in the same loop for a damn long time.

 

Okay. Okay. Starting over, now—because honestly you're gonna get pulled into the loop, and that's the last fucking thing you want.

 

* * *

 

You've made an art of hanging out in someone's head, which, in your opinion, is the least of your newfound talents. There's something about being a ghost (lost spirit? wandering soul?) that unbinds the amount of power you can use at will, expands the energy your spells can hold. It would be intoxicating, if you weren't keenly aware of the possible consequences to Cro, should you go too far with any of it, and if you...didn't actually know how to use it, most of the time.

Some things just sort of _happened_. When you were younger, and growing into one of your specialities (weather magic, and all the like), you'd caused localized changes, based on your feelings and moods. Now that you were older, and theoretically more powerful, and also _unbound_...

The first time you and Cro argued, you'd pulled a storm heavy enough to shut down the city down on your heads. It wasn't something you were used to, it wasn't something you knew how to handle. It was humiliating, even, to have your once tightly controlled magic so wild and untamed.

(it was a reminder that you had _only_ been termed the good child by dint of that same control.)

 

Shit. Okay. One more time, without the aura of bitter.

 

* * *

 

Although you've made an art of hanging out in Cro's head, you're enjoying the novelty of the world through your own eyes once more. You're no stranger to borrowing bodies, and given that you'd done your best to keep it to situations Cro wouldn't have _wanted_  to be in anyway—test taking, studying, reading the "boring" books the Ampora family required—you felt a certain kind of virtuous about all your previous...possessions, for lack of a more accurate term.

You're excellent at being an observer, at unobtrusively peering over Cro's shoulder, at gently nudging him towards better outcomes for the both of you, or towards the places you might like to go—if, and only if, he's willing, of course—which makes it all the more wonderful now, when he actively seeks your opinion. You've come to appreciate, more and more, each little tug on your awareness, each time he calls you up to the surface—

You've come to appreciate having someone other than _yourself_  to talk to. Monologuing isn't really your thing.

You hope.

 

One of those tugs comes now, and you let yourself drift from nonbeing to being, phasing into the world. Cro hasn't yet noticed it, but you're reasonably sure that the more _real_  you are, feel, the more it tires him out. It's less so, now that he's got a coven to reinforce his powers, but even so, you worry. You'd mention it, in fact, but you have a feeling that he'd try and fight from his back, or go off on some crazy scheme to boost his power enough to keep you around always. Better to let him think you're antisocial, with the way you drift in and out of being.

"Dan, hey." Still, though—the relief in his eyes is a powerful kind of drug.

(you've never wanted to admit that you've always been desperate for your family's approval.)

The bamboo's sitting on the counter. According to Cro, it's "Temple Bamboo", also called "Narihira Bamboo", and it changes color with the winter—soft greens in summer, deep burgundies with the snow—and it makes him think of you. You scoop the plant up, just in case you need to fade out a little bit more (plants, too, are easier for you to interact with when you're "not all there", and you think some of that might be down to Cro's specialties), and start your routine of checking it for signs of health. "Hey, Cro. What's up?"

"I'll tell you just as soon as you're through ogling my  _Semiarundinaria fastuosa_. Seriously, kid, you _know_  I know how to take care of my shit, right?"

"Sure, sure, I'll believe you just as soon as you've tried sayin' that five times fast," you say, smirking at him. You know this, and you _also_  know how much fun it is to twit him. "What's up?"

He's excited, on edge. You can see it in him easy, something Fef and Sol have yet to learn. You're sure they'll pick it up, and you can't fuckin' _wait_  for that, for all of you to get closer, to know one another, inside and out, the way a coven ought to. Besides, it's _good_  seeing him like this. Good seeing him lively.

(some days you worried who was more the ghost, between the two of you.)

"Well, uh," he starts, and stalls, glancing at you like he's a little nervous about your reaction. You'd been called back into being in the balcony, and you lean back against the railing, as he tries and fails to keep his attention on the plants he's always so careful with. "I've been thinking."

You smirk, remembering the old rejoinder he likely hadn't heard in...well, years. "A dangerous pastime."

"I know," he says, and huffs. "Dammit, Dan, I _told_  you I'm not fallin' for that shit anymore."

"Seems to me you still are." Any inch of guilt you might've felt for bringing up old memories fades into so much nothing at the relief in his eyes. "Thinkin' about what?"

"You've, uh. You've taken over before, right?" Now he finally looks up at you, offering his full focused attention, instead of side glances meant to cover how intently he wanted to stare. "No ill effects to me."

"I...I mean, generally you're in...somethin' of a dissociative state, when I do." You're hesitating to respond. The road he's heading down is one you're not so sure you wouldn't take advantage of. "You've got less practice stayin' half in the here an' now than I do."

Cro waves a hand, frustrated and dismissive—you're not telling him the answers he wants to hear. Good. "Right, right, a'course, and I didn't particularly fucking care about staying in the 'here and now' during classes anyway so it worked out peachy keen."

"Right. Uh—"

"I want you to try taking over, more often." He blurts it out all in one go, like he's afraid you'll cut him off, even if he doesn't lose his nerve. "I know it wears on you to stay _here_ , tires you out and shit, so I was thinking, what if we do it like this instead?"

 _Shit_. You hadn't considered this as a possible side effect of your (heh) ghosting, but you really should've seen this coming. "I...I guess that could work." Insofar as you can tell, taking a passenger seat is much less of a toll on his energy—physical, mental, and magical—than manifesting you as a corporeal being. "Maybe."

"No maybes about it, Dan," he tells you, grinning. "Let's do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major thanks auxanges for telling me what part of the story to do next and also to Biifurcatedcoder for being so hype about the betterverse that I straight up sat down and wrote this chapter over the course of a couple hours


	2. Day One: A Great Divide

You wake up to an itch in your nose and other pressing needs.

This is the first time it's ever happened—you've always been scrupulously careful about releasing Cro from whatever holds you'd had on him before you'd gone to sleep, and given that _he_  was asleep most of the time that you were in control, he hadn't noticed any sort of difference.

Only, this time he'd decided it'd be best to start out in that vein and _stay_  there, for just a bit longer than you usually might.

You think this might be the first time you've actually slept in _years_. You _know_  it's the first time you've ever actually dreamed.

Shit. Okay. Not the first time you've ever had to piss, but maybe you ought to pay more attention to these things when you're running the body. Time to go take care of that.

 

Your day is easy enough to start, and you carefully tilt your head from side to side, one hand on the razor as you guide it over shaving cream and stubble.  _How are you holdin' up, Cro?_  Of the things all of this time in the ethereal has given you, increased awareness of your sense of self, of the borders and boundaries between who and what you are, and who and what Cronus is, would have to be your favorite right about now. You direct your question to the sense you have of him, and combine it with the slightest tug.

 _Yeah_ , he says, quieter than usual. _Is it always like this for you?_

It's weird, feeling him this subdued, but you shrug. _Suppose so. Are you sure you're okay?_

_I'm doing great, chief. Let's rock and roll._

_Oh my god, Cro_.

But...

Fuck, okay. You'll admit it, in this corner of your head, the one you've learned, through trial and error, to section off from Cro: This feels _really_  fucking good. You have hands, fingers and toes, and you have the sense of surety that they're not going to vanish as he gets tired, or when either of you lose your concentration. It's a damn good feeling, probably one of the best you've ever felt.

You let that last thought leak out, a fragmented kind of gratitude, and feel Cronus chuckle. _You say that now—_

_Stop talkin', or else._

_Sure, sure. I am glad you're enjoyin' yourself, though._

"Thanks," you murmur out loud, and roll out of bed.

 

* * *

 

The motions of Cronus' day are somewhere between familiar and not. You remember watching him go through these, and going along with them, to some degree. You do not ever remember doing them yourself, save for during times of great stress—and those days Cro had assumed he was simply sleepwalking through the familiar, going through all of his tasks without actually thinking them over.

In your opinion, he hadn't been too far off. Today was the first day that you weren't simply steering a sleepwalking body around—the first time you weren't playing at being your big brother.

It is, again, another good feeling. 

 _So that was you, then? Damn. Thanks for making sure I wasn't late to half as much shit as I could've been late to_.

You grin, pleased at the amusement in his voice—maybe you were a little bit worried he'd be mad.  _You're welcome_.

Plants first. You delight in going against the order Cro usually prefers, and do them as _you_  think would be the most efficient. It's a small thing, but you enjoy it, nonetheless. _You're petty as fuck, Danny_.

You grin, and get started on making yourself something for breakfast. _Maybe a little bit, but hey, it's my first day out on the town. Gotta enjoy it._

_Fair enough. You sure you don't want to get somethin' to eat from Bloominous?_

_Nah. I know you let them know what was up with this, but I still think I want to, uh, get the hang a shit first? Like...I don't have as much experience bein', well, me. Even when I was in a corporeal form, these past few weeks, it didn't feel totally real?_

_Sure, okay. I mean, I don't_ get _it, but I can sorta feel what you're trying to get across, here._

_Good enough for me._

Ginny seems happy to see you, even if he acts annoyed that you're giving him a different bowl to eat from. _Like it even mattered before_ , Cro grumbles.

**Definitely matters. Don't be an idiot.**

You grin, and keep up your work.

 

* * *

 

The restaurant that Cro's boss runs is a brief jaunt from your shared apartment, perfect for a walk in the early afternoon, and you experience a flicker of delight—it's like you're filling in on a shift for your brother and best friend, or something. You, with actual responsibilities, beyond being...ghostly and shit. You're a bit beyond words right now, but the easy grin that slips onto your face, it feels pretty damn good.

_Wait until you're waiting tables and chatting up the customers, baby bro._

_I'm not gonna flirt for my tips the way you do, big bro._

_How about play for your dinner?_

_Oh, shit._  You do not have nearly as much practice with playing for an audience as Cro does, and all of your experience with music goes to the classical side of things—and happened, well, you know. Before you died. A long, _long_  time ago. _Cro, what am I gonna do?_

_You ever heard of a little thing called muscle memory, Danny? No matter what happens, you'll be fine. Worst case, I know the boss has a violin on hand._

_I still prefer cello. Less screechy._

_Picky picky._

When you slip into the restaurant, the boss looks pleased to see you. It's another thing you haven't had happen in a while, and part of you well-wishes that he was pleased to see _you_ , not pleased to see his employee—an entirely different person than you—showing up for work. On time.

"Cronus, hello!" Jefferson Andrews had hired your brother without references, without much in the way of prior experience—actually, he'd caught your brother busking and asked if he wanted to play for a live audience, then it had turned into a standing gig, then into a whole actual job. You remember watching gratitude wash over your brother every time he saw Jefferson, and now you feel it, punching you in the chest hard enough to nearly send you flying out of Cro's body. It's earth-shaking, it's—well, it's a lot of things that you hadn't been expecting to hit you. Emotions are kinda fucking amazing, when you can feel them this damn close.

"Hey," you manage, and flash him a grin. "How's Cocoa Bean?"

A fluffy brown head pokes out from around the corner at your question, and your eyes go wide. "Aroof?" Uh oh. Oh boy. Oh _fuck_.

 _Oh this is gonna be so fucking funny_.

"HWHUFF!" The too-many-pound Newfoundlander comes _barrelling_  around the corner and launches himself at you at mach fuck—Jefferson and Cro laugh as you go the fuck over, and you wonder if everyone had expected this, given the fact that you land on a heap of pillows set up just behind you.

"Sometimes I think you do that on purpose," Jefferson says, grinning down at you. You shoot him a glare, and his grin widens. "Cocoa Bean, let 'im up, he's got work to do."

"Yeah, yeah," you grouse, taking his offered hand to haul yourself off the ground. "I wouldn't, if the furball wasn't so stinking cute."

Cocoa Bean's jaw drops open in a doggie grin, and he sidles up to you to cage as many skritches as he possibly can. "You know, he doesn't actually jump on anyone but you, Cronus, which is a relief. Makes me think that all those expensive years of obedience school are actually worth something."

"Good to know I'm special," you grouse, and lean down to ruffle the pupper's ears. Cocoa Bean promptly licks your face. "Hey, _gross_ —"

"Cocoa Bean licked Cronus? That hasn't happened since—when was the last time that happened, sweetheart?" John Andrews, head chef at the Cocoa Bean and Bar, comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands off on his apron. "Couldn't have been since they met, could it?"

"I think it was, the face poor Cocoa pulled after he got a mouthful of hair gel was hysterical."

You roll your eyes at the both of them, and head for the back to get changed.

 

 _So there's your someone,_  Cro says, and your eyes go wide.

_Shit, the doggo recognized me? I mean, I've pet him sometimes before, an' he does usually lick me—_

_Are you saying the boss' dog could see you and I couldn't?_

_Yeah, pretty much._

_Un-fucking-fair._

You notice that his voice is a little softer—the words are quieter, as they come, and you bite down on your lip. _Doin' alright there, Cro?_

_Just kinda tired. Mind if I take a nap?_

_No worries_.

Several worries. Several, very significant worries, but bringing them up—you're not sure it would do anything at all to help.

 

* * *

 

Your shift—Cro's shift—passes a hell of a lot more quickly than you'd expected, and after an hour, your brother had been back with all the commentary you hadn't thought you'd miss, and when he caught the edges of your worry, he'd mocked you mercilessly for turning into an old wet hen behind his back.

In the corner you'd kept separate, you rejoiced, and front and center in your mind, you'd mocked, as you plucked guitar strings under his guidance, bussed tables and waited on customers, and, as part of a surprise gift for Jefferson and John—and the other two couples who'd stayed later talking and building up their tabs—you'd broken out the violin and gone whole ham on all the classics you knew.

It made for a damn good first day, and you headed home right off, pleased as punch, with a full stomach, a box of tips and leftovers, and a free bottle of wine to boot. As soon as you stepped inside, you'd handed control back to Cronus, and went back to hovering, trying not to show any jealousy or grief at giving up your brief taste of the life you'd been craving.

"So how was that, then?"

 _Might as well_ , you think to him, then shift yourself visible. He'll be heading to bed soon, anyway. "It was fuckin' awesome, Cro. Thank you, again—fuck, thank you so much." _Dammit. Little too obvious_.

But you don't need to worry about that—he gives you a sleepy grin and heads for the shower, shucking clothes along the way. "A'course, man. We can do it again, if you like. Whole day, or a coupla hours at a time? Now that we know you can handle shit for—fuck, wow, that was twenty-four hours on the nose, wasn't it? You've got a good sense of time, chief."

"Uh, thanks." You take a seat on the sink counter and wait for him to finish up, then toss him a towel and head for the bedroom. "So—you're sure you're feelin' okay? Absolutely no adverse effects, nothin' traumatized or damaged beyond the baseline, I mean, I can't feel anythin' adverse so I figured I should check—"

"I am _fine_ , Dan," he says, and gives you another grin, tossing the towel vaguely towards the laundry hamper before flopping into bed. "Shit. Toss me my boxers?"

"Yeah, yeah." You bean him in the head with them, and wait for him to get settled under the covers before you turn out the lights. "Thanks again."

"Any time," he mumbles—and then he's out.

You're left staring around a quiet apartment, and you keep it up for a minute—then head off, to turn out the lights and put away your loot.

It's not a bad feeling at all.


	3. Day Two: The Spirit's World

Two days passed and with them, Cronus' willingness to let the matter drop. It was like a break, he said, a bit of vacation from worries and responsibilities. He'd spent most of the time sleeping anyway, so it wasn't like you had to worry about keeping him awake or entertained—for him, it was the perfect opportunity to catch up on all the sleep he usually traded away to late night concerts or movie binges. For you, it was looking to be another exercise in anxiety management, and an incredibly extreme stress test of your control.

 

But he wore you down, over the course of two days, and you ended up agreeing to another trial run—two days long, this time—as much to ease his guilt as to indulge your own fantasies of living life like a normal boy.

 _Don't go all Pinocchio on me, bro._  

You roll your eyes in reply, and find pajamas that look less stupid than his usual ones.

_Don't insult great art either._

 

* * *

 

The other part of this trial that you'd been nervous about—not that you didn't already have enough to make you nervous with regards to duration—were Cronus' plans. Unlike day one, he'd decided that you ought to do something for yourself—or, technically, for the both of you. Three of you. Four of you? _Fuck_.

Cro had planned a hangout session for you, Sol, and Fef. They'd be over in an hour or two, which gave you about half an hour (or so) to clean up enough of the living room that the three of you could build a comfortable little pillow nest in which to snuggle, and, if you were lucky, fall asleep all cuddled up close.

 _See, I'm the fucking best wingman, I told you_. Cronus sounds smug, and you mentally flip him off. _Wow, rude._

"I'm always rude," you mutter, hauling the vacuum out of the closet. "I'll give you credit for the plans if you stop talkin' like I'm just gonna go an' _seduce_  them. You—you know I'm not the only one invested in them. This. Uh."

_We'll sort out a timeshare or something._

"Oh my god."

 

Loud music and a blaring vacuum are enough to help you tune out his further comments on the state of your mutual-ish relationships (or lack thereof), and you tidy up in record time. Hauling pillows out to the living room is the fun part of setting up, you decide, and even Ginny seems to agree. He first attempt is a blanket that's way too big for him (you end up untangling him before he even leaves the bedroom), and his second is a pillow nearly twice his size. Somehow, miraculously, everything is unharmed.

**Hey kid, how's your spellcasting?**

You wince, and feel Cronus wince with you. "Any particular reason you're askin'?"

Ginny's tail flicks as he looks you over, seemingly unimpressed.  **Do us all a favor and skip the pretending that you don't know the reason, yeah?**

"...I'm decent," you say (deciding to be as truthful as you can while still underplaying it) and take a deep breath.

 

* * *

 

It turns out that you are not, in fact, quite as good as you thought you were. Being yourself, you were just as good as every Ampora your age, and better than a few of the older ones by _far_. Being a spirit is...it's different, to be sure. Intoxicating, in some ways, frightening, in others, but the ability to connect to every last instance of your magic is probably what saved you from going mad. In Cronus' body, which is not so attuned to the magic of the Ampora Line as your body was or your spirit form is, magic is a hell of a lot harder.

 _Jesus_ , you think, and feel Cro's...resignation, flood through you.

_It's always been like this, Danny. Ain't much use in fighting the way I was made, but...I've come up with some workarounds, if you wanna try 'em out._

You do. You really, desperately do, because you're starting to feel like a failure, which is something you're not accustomed to feeling, and something you do not _enjoy_  feeling.

_Yeah, I. I got pretty used to that, right quick. Hah._

"Shit," you mumble, scrubbing a hand through your hair. "M'sorry, Cro, I didn't think—"

 _S'okay_ , he says. You're kind of amazed that he manages to say it without the resentment you know _you_  would be feeling in his place. _Like I said, I got used to it. You're not used to not being the golden child. Shit don't sting, yeah? It's okay, Dan. I promise it's okay._

"Teach me those workarounds," you say, wanting to focus on maybe making something better out of something that's been festering bad. "I wanna know how you did all the shit that you do."

 

* * *

 

While you learn his, you try to offer him yours.

Disembodiment, contrary to what both of you had originally believed, leaves many opportunities open.  Like you'd said before, it was as if you had been entirely opened up to the magic, as if every part of you could reach and react to what you did and knew and felt—it was something unbelievable, it was something untouchable, it was something...

Magical.

And now it was like you were bound by the limitations of an earthly body, twice over. You couldn't understand everything going on in you, in him, and you had no idea where most of your own issues were coming from. Cronus, apparently, had a specialty that was incompatible with the Ampora magic, but whenever you tried to question him on it, all you go were confused evasions, and the shame you remembered him wearing all too well during your rare joint lessons.

If you wanted to learn more, you'd have to do what you usually avoided having to do.

You were going to have to take a look at the source of his power.

 

Later, though—later, when he was properly asleep, when Sollux and Feferi were settled in and cozy, when all of you had gone to some semblance of bed. Later, when you were still in charge of the body, but able to interact with him on the same level, in the world of a spirit.

Same level might be pushing it, though. Cronus didn't have anything anywhere like your level of experience, and you were reasonably sure that you'd be able to field whatever curiosity he might throw your way, especially when he'd gotten tired out, the way he seemed to whenever he wasn't in charge of running things.

As you organize the room, you're wondering where the differences in your strengths come into play, with regards to how you handled "floating", as you'd been calling it. Maybe you ought to tell him that? Bring it up as a naming suggestion? Actually let him into the parts of your mind you'd been keeping separate so far?

 _An' maybe I ought to let him kiss Sol or Fef before I get to_ , you think to yourself, in the private mindspace you'd created. Further thoughts are derailed by a butterfly-light knock on the door, and Feferi in your arms, Sollux smirking tall behind her. "Hey, took you guys long enough. I was startin' to think I was gettin' stood up, or that you actually couldn't make it."

"Oh come on," Sollux says, rolling his eyes. "Even I'm not enough of an asshole to actually bail on someone on a date night, don't pretend you didn't already know that, Ampora."

It's your turn to smirk at him, but Feferi seems to be more interested in rolling her eyes at your antics as she pushes past, heading into the apartment. "You guys are both pains in the bass, I hope you're aware! Eridan," and your name is almost sweet music on someone else's lips, "where do you want me to put the food?"

"Anywhere you like, darlin'," you say, and from the way her eyes go wide and her cheeks go pink—and maybe even a little the way she bumps up against you as she slips inside—the endearment lands well. "Fort supplies are in the livin' room, a'course, so I suppose it'll depend on how far we want to travel for sustenance."

"No more than two feet." Sollux shoulders pass you, following Feferi deeper into the shared space. "I'll bring another table into the living room, or something. Got anything foldable?"

 

You do not, as it turns out, but Cronus has a plank to set everything on, given that the dining room chairs are immediately pressed into service as posts for part of the tent the three—four, remember it's four, and five if you're counting Ginny—are constructing. The television's another post, so you can keep the Disney blaring, and hearing Cronus singing along in your head is one of the most comforting things you know.

The others are as follows: Gin, passing by every so often to nick food; Fef, curled up into your side to tuck under your chin; Sol, his arm around you and his chin resting on your shoulder.

You think touch is what you missed most of all, you think you'd rather be here than anywhere else in the world, you think you're a damn lucky idiot, to have gotten this much love in your life.

Feferi turns to you, her eyes alight, and you swallow hard— _don't you dare fucking kiss her before we hash this shit out, chief_ —before she leans across you and grabs another bun.

 _You're louder when you're pissy_ , you note mentally, and Cro scoffs.

 _Like you're not the same? You were, even back when we were little_.

 _Fuck you_ , you think, and grin to yourself the rest of the song—"Kingdom Dance", and Cro's promising to teach you how to play it, if you like.

 

* * *

 

And then, all at once, it's later.

 

Feferi and Sollux are snuggled up on heaps of pillows, buried under veritable snowdrifts of blankets, and you're filled with the warmest and squishiest of feelings you can imagine. _Sap_ , Cro mutters, from the back of your mind, and you roll your eyes, tucking your shared body down for the night between the two of them—

—and when you pull back, to "float" on his level, you leave yourself a tether. Half in, half out.

 

He's startled to "see" you, from the way his eyes momentarily bug out, and you flash him a grin. "Time for me to teach you a few tricks in return."


	4. Day Three: The Crossroads of Definitely

It is three days into the full week of Cronus' latest "experiment" when you know something's gone horribly wrong.

Or, at least, "horribly wrong" is how the anxiety you'd been trying to ignore for the past month or two describes it, as Cro's answers get slower and slower, and his voice in your head goes quieter, sleepier, lazier—

You're worried. Scared, even, but you don't think you've got much of a chance at being scared if you're trying to keep shit together. Cro's...distant, you're worried he's fading, but every time you try to suggest a switch back, he comes back, strong as ever, absolutely refusing to trade. It's weird, in your opinion, that he gets more present then, but hell, maybe you can figure something out.

Or...maybe you can go and pester Feferi for some kind of answers about any possible imminent doom and gloom hanging over your older brother's head before you do anything stupid. 

 

* * *

 

This turns out to be a good decision—Feferi's _very_ happy to see you, and she's just made her dark chocolate strawberry muffins, which means you're greeted at the door by an enthusiastic armful of Fef and the absolutely heavenly scent of muffins in the background. "Eridan! I didn't expect to see you today, how was your shift?"

"Oh, uh," you manage, squeezing her tight against you. "I, I'm good? Came by to—are you bakin', I don't wanna interrupt—"

"I've got plenty of time for you, Dan, c'mon in. Do you want a muffin? Maybe two? I know they're your favorite," she says, slipping out of your arms and heading back inside. "I figured I'd drop them off tomorrow, or maybe text you and swing by later today, so hey, good timing!"

Nothing you can do but follow her, and hey, you're not going to complain about getting some free food out of the bargain, especially not when she's gone to all this trouble to make you your favorites. "Thanks, that sounds really good. Can I cage some milk too, maybe?"

"Of course! Did you really think I'd make you eat my famous chocolate and berry muffins without some milk?" Her smile sends a pleasant little thrill through you, and you hope you're not blushing. Goddammit. "So what's up, huh? Is everything okay? How's the experiment going?"

"That's actually what I came to talk to you about." Maybe something in your tone gives it away, because she turns to you, concern in those warm brown eyes. "Cro's...he's not equipped to handle this, bein' half here an' half not, but he won't let me trade back with him—he's all quiet an' shit, almost invisible, until I try to switch, I'm just. I'm really fuckin' worried about him, Fef, I don't know what's goin' to happen, or if this is actually okay for him to do, you know?"

Serious is a look that works for her—on her—too. Fef Peixes doesn't seem to need much more than a nudge to get her head focused on you and your problems, and the attention is as nice as it is worrying—surely if everything was okay, she wouldn't be reacting like this. Surely it's a sign of how bad things are that she is.

"Sit," she tells you, and you obey, unsure of what else you can do as she walks back into the kitchen alone.

 

Five minutes is enough time to make a cup of her raspberry dark hot chocolate, and she's back beside you before the dust of your revelation's even settled. Fef hands you the cocoa, already cooled to the perfect temperature, and you wrap your hands around it, breathing in the steam gratefully. "If what you're telling me is true, there's a serious danger that Cronus might lose his pathways back to himself—only, that would take way more than a week of 'floating', and as tethered to each other as the two of you are, I feel like he'd learn more of your tricks once he got off his ass and thought to try them. It _seems_  like he's losing himself a little too easily, and once he's lost, well. The easiest thing to do, sometimes, is nothing at all."

"Yeah, but—"

"But what?" Her eyes match the cocoa, as she looks up at you, steady as the sun itself. "If there's more you can tell me about what's going on, it would be really good to hear it."

"...he shows up more, sometimes," you say, squeezing the mug a little tighter, leaning down to take another sip. You'd prefer not to risk it sloshing, she's always had a generous hand with a pour. "I don't really know how to say it. The most evident is when I try to get him to switch back, but I figured that was on account of I was tuggin' on him, y'know?"

"Well, when else has he made his presence known? Was there anything that one incident had in common with another?" The questions are careful and calm—if you'd wanted completely clinical, you'd have waited until Sollux was in one of his moods and called him—and her mere presence eases your nerves more than you'd expected it to. "You can talk in a general sense, whatever is easiest for you, okay?"

Even generalizations are hard, now, after you'd analyzed and over-analyzed everything to shreds. You feel like you're on the edge of an anxious breakdown that's not even rooted in your own anxiety. "Uh, I mean—he'd usually be...feelin' somethin', you know? When he shows up more. A strong kinda feelin', like it's somethin' he's really invested in, somethin' he cares about."

"...it's possible that emotions, all the chemical reactions in the brain, the visceral feelings he'd get in the body, it's possible that those could be triggering a sort of...spatial awareness in himself? Tying him back to his body a little more strongly?" She's kicked into full science gear, as far as you—a history nerd through and through—can tell, and you nod, hoping she's going to give you some kind of solution. "If that's the case, then making him feel _more_  seems like it would be a good way to weave him back into himself! Even when you're having trouble finding him, it should work—"

When she cuts off to look up at you, you realize, much to your horror, that there's a tear streaking down your cheek. Cro's cheek. Your tear. Fuck. "Sorry, Fef, I just—"

"He's going to be fine, Eridan," she tells you, reaching out to take one of your hands. "I promise you he will, and I'll show you he will too, okay?"

You're about to ask what she means, wanting to know what she intends to do, when she shifts forward, almost into your lap, and takes the cocoa right out of your hands and the breath right off of your lips.

Hers are soft, sweet as you'd imagined and the cocoa besides, and you sink into kissing her before you even know what's what, one of your hands settling on her back, sliding down as you press her in closer against you, the other catching up her curls, twining in among them. It's dizzying, it's magnificent, it's everything you'd dreamed of in a body you'd never dreamed of wearing while doing it, and when the little noise you didn't mean to make is echoed by her, you almost fucking melt all over again—

 

And when you pull back, you hear Cronus, grumbling in a sleepy sort of way, about keeping your godsdamn fantasies to _yourself_ , thank you very fucking much.

It's enough to make you laugh until you start to cry.


	5. Day Four: Daymares and Night Dreams

_She wears concentration remarkably well, but then, you've noticed that's true of a frankly unfair number of her expressions. "You said he was louder—uh, more present, I guess—when you'd gotten a rise out of his emotional reactions?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Okay then," Feferi says. You wonder if you're imagining the wixlight in her eyes. "Let's see if I can help you with that."_

_You don't get to respond, you don't get to think—her lips are soft, and you move on instinct, one hand pulling her against you, the other catching at shining curls like so much water. Kissing her comes naturally, easy as breathing, and you tilt her head back, licking into her mouth, lingering on the sweetness—_

 

 _"Don't forget to breathe." Cro's voice is half-asleep, amused and almost annoyed, incredibly real, and he doesn't quite seem to realize what you've been doing—but he's_ there _,_ _and you nearly sink to the ground in relief, and—_

 

You sit upright in the pile of blankets and pillows you buried yourself under. Actually awake. Completely alone.

And still in your older brother's body.

"Shit," you mumble, rubbing a hand over your face.

 

* * *

 

This is the fourth day of the experiment, and all you can think about right now is Feferi Peixes, how her lips felt on yours, the way it would've—might've? felt, to kiss her longer, harder, take her back down to the ground and—

"Morning!" Feferi's chipper voice cuts right through your reverie, and you tug the blankets over you a bit more to hide any other evidence, because you are on her couch, in her living room, and you've just woken up from what was edging dangerously close to a very fucked up kind of dream. "What do you feel like for breakfast?"

"Uh—" you manage, scrubbing a hand through Cro's curls. "I, I'm game for anythin', really—"

"One 'anything' coming right up." She gives you a wink that has you ducking your head again, very glad for the extra pillows and blankets she'd layered you up with. Thank the gods for Feferi Peixes.

 

Breakfast wakes you up a little bit more, your favorite fruits baked into warm, soft things, maple butter spread over the sweet saltiness of homemade bread. You hum at the taste, one of Cro's tendencies spilling out of his body. "This is fuckin' amazin', Feferi."

She gives you a summer-sweet smile, hipchecking you affectionately on her way to the fridge. "Figured you could use a little bit of a pick-me-up after last night's...uh, everything. How are you doing, Eridan?"

"Bit better, I guess," you tell her, just a little bit unsure if this counts as lying or not. You are a bit better, but then, you were starting from pretty low down. "Uh, thanks for all a the, you know, help? I appreciate it."

The knowing look she gives you has your shoulders shrugging jut a little bit in, a defensive huddle Cro's body is unfamiliar with. He reacts to this kind of tension so differently—bravado putting his chest out, tilting his head back, a smirk on his lips—and you almost wish there was enough muscle memory shared between the two of you to mimic it.

Almost. Almost, not quite.

"So, got any plans?" You'd like to say it comes out smooth, but Feferi giggles when you ask, so you know you've probably stepped in it now. "I didn't mean—"

"To sound like you were using a cheesy pickup line?" When she flashes you another brilliant smile, you know it's alright. "Seriously, Dan, we're good. Take a breath, kick back, relax—no one's here to make life harder for you, okay? Promise!"

"Thanks," you tell her, and try not to think about the times when people were there to make life harder for you (and Cro, more Cro than you, ever, even).

 

* * *

 

Full up on good food and sweet comfort, you stumble your way back to your own apartment. Ginny's taken care of things at home, mostly, but you'd like to make sure you're not letting Cro down while he's taking this little...vacation. That means getting the chores done, that means keeping an eye on how shit's doing at home, that means going to every single shift and doing that... _blurry_  thing you sometimes do if you need a little more of him in your repertoire, when you've got music to play. 

It's not perfect by any means but it works. That's all the two of you seem to need.

So you check his emails and open his mail and you try not to think about how long it's been since you've gotten even a freakin' _letter_.

 

You're not bitter.

Well, you are, but you're working on it.

 

Part of that involves getting out of your own head, sometimes, so when Sollux tells you he's got some free time after work if you want to come over and game and hey are you doing okay because FF said something, and really he's shit at talking but if you _need_  to then—you cut him off mid-ramble and let him know you'll be over just as soon as your shift's done, and to put in an order because the food's on you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 4/13


	6. Day Five - Bitter Work

****Sollux Captor's apartment is the kind of place that makes you question your sanity, and Cronus' besides. At least, it's like that _some_ days of the week. Others, it's neater than a goddamn pin, and twice as straight, which—on the days when you walk in and everything looks like it got hit upside the head with the bad end of a tornado—makes you question your sanity even more, sometimes.

This may or may not be compounded by the fact that out of your whole little coven—Cro's whole little coven—Sollux is easily the most adept at all forms of cleaning magic.

You have so many questions, and you already know, soul-deep, that you will _never_ get your answers.

 

Today it's on the neater side, but you can already see the mess starting to creep in around the corners. His floor's clean, at least, due in part to the adorable little Roomba-type technomancy he's got going on down there, and you crouch to give Lord Darlington Tattersall the Third a pat before you head deeper into the apartment to track down Sollux. If he hadn't shown up for you knocking on the door, he's probably hip deep in something ridiculous that he'll need a wake up call for.

When you find him surrounded by wires, gears, and plant life, you chalk up one point Eridan, then cough politely enough that he rounds on you out of sheer, ingrained irritation with old demons he won't admit to harboring.

You will admit this part readily: You are maybe, sometimes, kind of a massive asshole. It's your brother's influence. Probably.

The flicker of delight that Sollux always lets slip for a second might be the other thing encouraging Bad Eridan Behavior along. It's hardly your fault, you've been the _good_ kid for far too long and a little rebellion seems very well warranted. You've got a hundred justifications for messing with Sollux, and they will _keep_ on coming, despite the very obvious fact that the answer is simultaneously A. It's fun, and B. He's hot when he's in a temper.

In this case, Sollux flips you off and turns back to work on his project, with much less hyperfocus than before. Your guess is that he's doing it deliberately to annoy you, but you're not going to call him out on that until it would suit your purposes even further. "If you're wondering about the food, I ate it all."

"It beat me here and you put it under a stasis charm, huh."

"...maybe."

That would be a yes even without the pause and you grin at the back of his head. When he gets sentimental it's adorable, and knowing that he waited for you to get here to eat? Well, you'll admit it. Your boyfriend, though he often refuses to show it, is really cute.

Shit. Okay. Not—not your boyfriend. Your not-boyfriend. Your it's complicated and we're still working things out.

 

Fuck, man. It's not like you've got any of your other shit together anyways. You're still floating bamboo through the air and living in your brother's body.

 

The two—three, if Cronus ever pipes up, and fuck that's a whole new flood of the same old worry—of you adjourn to a space that hasn't yet succumbed to Sollux's style of living: A modular couch that can be rearranged and adjusted however Sollux sees fit. You'd swear that he's spelled the thing so much it's grown sentient, and also attuned itself to his moods. Cronus and Feferi agree, Sollux thinks you're all crazy.

In your defense, he'd once pretended to dramatically faint and _suddenly_ there was a chaise lounge under him where there hadn't been one before _and_ absolutely no fluctuation in magic from him.

A wix has to be aware of their surroundings. Sentient couches included.

 

"So what's on your mind?" Sollux drops the question halfway into a box of gourmet pizza pockets that he refuses to let you call calzones. Between the two of you, you can take out a good eight full-sized not-calzones in one sitting, with the potential to go to eight _each_ if spaced out over a reasonable amount of time. "Not that you wouldn't usually jump at the opportunity for my sterling company, but there was a hint of desperation in your voice and you're usually not that quick to jump to the yes. I had arguments all lined up and everything, ED. Huge disappointment."

"Fef and I talked about it a bit, but, uh. I guess it's mainly to do with...well. Cro."

He gestures for you to continue. "As so many of your to-do-withs are."

"Don't be cute," you tell him, and the flash of a grin that follows informs you that he's more pleased that you called him cute than he's chastised at all. "I'm _worried_."

"You're always worried. What is it about this time? Did he accidentally listen to one of FF's playlists with the unholy amounts of Sara Bareilles again?" He stares at you when you pause, considering your options. That _might_  rile him up, if you timed it correctly. "Holy fuck, ED, I was joking."

"That's the thing, though, see—he's gotten, uh. Quieter. When we're doin shit an switched, he's just. Not as present. Not really there."

Even though he takes a bite of his pizza pocket that spreads sauce past the bounds of his mouth and over part of one cheek, the look in his eyes is proof enough to you that he's taking you seriously, now. "Like he's gone...dim, or something?"

"Yeah, _exactly_ ," you say, and realize a second too late that you're practically leaning all the way across the table. Shit. Goddammit. Pull back, Ampora, before you look any more stupid. "I'm just, I'm worried about what it means for him, an this, an us, you know?"

"Of course." From the set of Sollux's shoulders, you're wondering what unexpected information he's going to hit you with. He's got a knack for _knowing_  things, for pulling information you'd never expect out of nothing but nothing. "So. I take it that you _didn't_  test out this...thing...with FF's playlists, then."

 

While you don't actually contemplate lying to him, you'll admit the option, as soon as you remember it exists, is tempting. So is the thought of slightly obfuscating your words, bending the truth, and strategically omitting hypothetically unnecessary information.

The first fact of the matter is, though, you need his help, you _honestly_  want his help, and also? After living as a spirit for so damn long, the absolute last thing you want to do is let your soul (and by extension, Cronus') get embroiled in lies. The second fact of the matter? Being in a coven gives a wix a few extra advantages, when it comes to their partners, like increased sensitivity to a covenmate's magic and emotions.

And even if you weren't technically a covenmate, even if you weren't already planning not to lie, even if you already weren't _well_  aware that it sucked to have someone you trust tell you something that wasn't exactly the truth...

Well. You could see (figuratively, and literally, there were a few extra advantages to being a spirit, too) that telling Sollux anything less than the utter and honest truth would be a really, _really_  bad idea. Especially right here. Especially right now.

Especially about whatever the fuck you might've done, and what it might have meant to Cronus.

 

"We kissed," you tell him, and you're exceedingly grateful that lacking a physical form means that you can condense your mental rambles and internal emotional turmoil to a few brief seconds. A pause, to be sure, but hardly a more significant one than Sollux would be expecting. You hope. "Fef an I, I mean. We kissed, an it woke Cro up, a little. Not...not enough to be fully corporeal, like I do, but he commented on shit, you know? I dunno if he was completely aware a what was goin on, but he made a relevant comment, so—"

"You're curious about how much awareness he has when he's like that," Sollux says, his voice quiet, and gods, _gods_ , you knew he'd catch on quick but you still kind of hate that he did. "You want to test it, but you're not sure you want to know."

"Sol, that's not why I came here, I swear—"

"No, I know," he says, and it's probably the most mature you've seen him manage to be, for the longest amount of time he ever has. "You're not like that."

And isn't that a stab to the fucking heart. How does he know you're not like that? Even if he's one of the three people alive who knows you best, he doesn't _know_  you. He's never even met you, not without the filter of Cro. You manage a "thanks", and it doesn't even sound like the word's been forced out through gritted teeth, even though it feels like bitterly forgotten coffee grounds, left behind on an unclean cup. "I came here because I can't stop thinkin about it. All a it." Pause. Heartbeat. Memory. "You said Fef said somethin? What exactly did she tell you?"

"That you were worried about CO." He meets your (feverish, wild, you're sure you don't look good right about now) eyes steady on, and you wonder if one color of mismatch gives him the power to see into your soul. "That she'd tried to help you, but she wasn't sure if it had made things worse."

You want to scream, you want to choke, you want a million and one things (Feferi, Sollux, a _home_ ) that you probably shouldn't have. Instead, you force yourself to give him Cro's easy grin (not yours) that you'd practiced a thousand times until you'd gotten it right (not you) and a noncommittal shrug (not right). "The worried part, well, you already know, an the helpin part you got too. But it's Fef, Sol. She couldn't make shit worse, ever. Not even if she tried."

There's a tightness in his expression, as he sets his plate down. No stains, no smears, and you wonder when he cleaned himself up—handy little cantrip, that, you'd made sure to help Cro learn it as soon as you could—and how serious he's trying to be if he'd go this far. "I'm getting really tired," he says, and oh _ho_ , there's something dangerous and almost _brittle_ in that expression of his, "of you putting Feferi up on some kind of pedestal. She's not that girl, and she deserves better than you doing that. She makes mistakes too, and the more you expect her to be perfect, the more it'll hurt you both when you _finally_  get that she's not."

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean, Captor? I think she's _great_ , I'm not—what the _hell_ , Sol?"

He's spelled the food back to the kitchen, now, and it's hard not to be, just... _aware_ , of the height difference between the two of you, when he's this close and smirking down at you like he's solved a riddle and he's still ten steps ahead of you—

"I think you know, Eridan," he says, and you twist a hand into his shirt, hauling him down to eye level.

"No," you tell him, "I don't. I'm _not_  puttin Fef on a pedestal, or at least, I'm not tryin to, an I'm fully cognizant a the fact that she makes mistakes an if this is because I left out the fact that _she_  kissed _me_  first an you're callin _that_  a mistake, then, well—" You're actually not sure. If he thinks it was a mistake that Feferi even _wanted_  to kiss you, you think you might just go cry somewhere. "—well _fuck you_."

"Damn, you really don't know, do you?" He's still so fucking smug. You want to punch him in the face! "No, I was thinking the mistake you were _going_  to make was putting all of the blame for using your brother's body to get some sloppy makeouts on _you_ , instead of recognizing the fact that we're all aware of what's going on and active participants in it."

You stare at him, blankly, and he sighs.

"You were going to make it your fault," Sollux tells you, and your cheeks burn bright red at being so completely _known_. "When you told Cronus, you were going to put this all on you. FF's a grown woman, she makes her own choices, and you'd be taking something away from her—and from me—by not letting us tell him the truth."

"It is on me," you tell him, something burning bright in your heart for the first time. You think it's hope; you know it's a sharp counterpoint to every painful thing you've felt for too damn long. "And this is too."

When you haul him down the last few inches for a proper kiss, it feels so right it's nearly (totally) wrong.

 

And then you almost break down crying (again) when you hear that quiet stirring of Cronus in the depths of your shared-ish soul.


	7. Day Six: Storm Watch

You have...

Well, it's a plan, but you're pretty sure it's not a good one. It's a necessary one, though, as necessary as breathing or air or your big brother being _safe_ , so you're going with it, regardless of how Fef might've tried to talk you out of it or Sol might've tried to poke holes in it. It's _your_  plan, it's what needs to be done, and you already know pretty damn well that it will work.

Besides. You'd made your concessions. Now it was time to take matters into your own hands, and. Maybe try not to think about the arguments, and how tempting it was to let them tell you no, to let them win and be right, to decide that it _wasn't_  your fault and that you didn't have to try so hard. You'd already backed down. Already...already tried to settle up with whatever Sol was talking about. You _weren't_  taking everything onto yourself, you were just...letting Cronus think it was all your fault, for a brief period of time.

As in, however long he _needed_  to think it was all your fault. So not all that long. Probably.

It would be fine. You were sure.

 

So you have a plan. Time to lay it out for yourself one last time.

 

You'll bring him back as best as you can and even if it drains a good chunk of your energy to do so, that's something you've accounted for. Sufficient calculation has proved that you can carry the cost. Once he's back, you'll put in the effort to rile his emotions, to make him mad enough to _keep_  him there, and then you'll send him off somewhere that will _keep_  those emotions high. You'll send him to people that will keep those emotions high, and...

Fuck. _Fuck_.

You'll back off. That's the final piece of your plan. You'll back off, you'll go quiet as you can be, and you won't ever set foot past the confines of your own space again. The back of Cronus' mind. Sleepwalking to read the things he doesn't want to read, doing his taxes for him when he passes out from boredom mid-form, nudging him into another history documentary he'd only halfway considered watching. You'll pull back. You'll back off.

You'll learn to let go.

 

The thought of it is blade to the godsdamn heart, but there is very little that you would not do for the only member of your family that ever really loved you. It's painful, awful in ways you can't let yourself prod at without the threat of your mind lashing back out, but it will keep him safe and it will keep him free, and for now, that's enough for you.

Which means that you have a plan, even if it's not a spectacular one, and it _will_  work, because there's no one on earth who knows Cro Ampora better than you. It will work. It _will_  work.

You just.

You just have to make it start. Give it a push in the right—in the direction that it needs to go.

That's all. Nothing too hard.

"Not like I'm givin up my chance to be a real boy again or anythin," you mumble to yourself, forcing your hands to uncurl before you cut those red half-moons any deeper into your palms. "Just...just, just let go, Dan. Let go."

 

And you let yourself sink down, pushing him to rise up past you, as you force yourself to

just let go.

 

* * *

 

Cro's anger is a bitter taste in the mouth you don't have, a physical weight on your spirit body, and the tang of storm winds in the air. He'll assume it's your doing, but it's all his own, pulling on the threads of magic that bound you to him these past few days, the ones that formed when things were left that wrong for so long. You wish you could tell him the truth. You wish you had it in you to explain.

You wish it didn't hurt so bad to hear what he really thought of you.

 

After the first round of brief exchanges—terse words on the doorstep, brief attempts at soothing, a shove in the direction of a hot shower to warm his cold bones—you dip lower. It's probably the first time in a damn, _damn_  long time that you've willingly gettered yourself, closed off your way to the world and left yourself essentially blind and deaf to everything around you other than your own magic and mind.

You don't like it. You'd go so far as to say you hate it.

You've also resigned yourself to getting used to it.

 

* * *

 

When Cronus goes under so deep you can feel the shift (the gentle pull up, that inviting tug, to take over the way you have so often before), you shove your way up in a panic only to realize that nothing's amiss.

Okay, not strictly true. Nothing other than the fact that he went ahead and bedded both Sol and Fef in one fell swoop.

That...well, it fucking _hurts,_  if you're being honest, but it's no more than you deserve and you close yourself off from any possible anger, letting your mind steep and stew in guilt instead. You deserved that. You deserve this. You knowingly took advantage of your brother and this is the end result.

But it's hard to pull all the way back, even when you feel him waking up, because there's a deep current underneath all the comfort and relaxation that look so much better on him than the insubstantiality that had grown more apparent with each passing day of your "timeshare" experiment. It's _good_  to see him like this, to see him better, but he can't quite seem to shake his worries, which means that, well.

Neither can you.

 _Something_  is weighing on his mind and given your current circumstances, his mind is about all you're letting yourself see. So you're still there, still _mostly_  aware, when Feferi reminds him that it's like ripping off a bandaid, and fuck, she picked up on your nickname for him, and—

“We need to find the originator of the curse, and I’d bet every last cent I had that it’s—”

 _Da_ , you say, almost automatically, and you know, you _know_ , that they all heard you, that you were stupid enough to say it out loud, that you'd broken every godsdamn rule you'd made for yourself within a few short hours of putting them into play in the first place.

And on some level, you can feel them—you can feel _Cronus_ —reaching back out to you, and on almost every level, you desperately, selfishly, want to respond.

 

Instead, you force yourself deeper, determined not to go any further back on what you've already sworn. You'll make this right. You have to, somehow. You _will_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter means that we're officially caught up with _and we chase our better nature_! things are going to fall into place pretty fast in the next couple of chapters, and then we'll be a bit further into the future, which means it's decision time...


End file.
